Kris Longknife: Audacious Part 8

"Put her on."

"Kris, I got out of cla.s.s a bit late, could you pick me up at the back of the Faculty Center?"

"I'd be glad to, Gramma. Where do you want us?"

A map appeared in the air in front of Kris, a green blip on it. A moment later it was repeated on the heads-up display in front of the driver.

"I got it, Your Highness. We'll have to drive around the campus, but no problem."

"We'll see you there," Kris said.

And the green blip was suddenly no longer on the map.

"She throttled her squawker!" Nelly said as she pulled the map from the air in front of Kris. "Civilians aren't supposed to be able to do that," she sniffed.

"Possibly, Commander Tordon has kept her reserve commission on the books," Jack said. "But living close to Longknifes, I suspect she's just paid for more security than the average head-in-the-sand civilian feels a need for. And has her head on straight enough to use it whenever she gets too close to a Longknife. Might explain why she's still got that head."

Kris found nothing to argue with.

The rigs zigged and zagged around a campus that looked very familiar to Kris. In the center of things were a few brick buildings, maybe one or two with pretentious stone pillars. The next layer out showed a more prosperous planet as granite and stone replaced brick in someone's idea of a neocla.s.sical style. But the population kept growing and money started getting short. The outer layers of cla.s.srooms and labs were shoehorned into big, blocky buildings rising not so high that they required more expensive construction materials, nor so low that they took up too much land that was getting expensive. The history of education was writ the same on hundreds of planets.

If Kris smiled at the sameness of the buildings, she almost laughed at the students, products of some cookie-cutter mold kept handy on every planet. The rigs' advance slowed, surrounded by a mob of hungry college students who, though afoot, showed no fear of cars and a near proprietary att.i.tude toward the streets.

"For G.o.d's sake, don't hit one," Kris said after a close near encounter with a jaywalking pair of redheads.

"I'm doing my best," Kris's driver said, tapping the brake as two coeds ducked between her and the lead car.

It was a good thing they were going slow, because they found Gramma Ruth waving at them a full two blocks early.

Jack said a bad word, usually reserved for only the worst of situations. Only this time, it oozed admiration. "She is one smart cookie."

Jack opened the door and pulled down a jump seat for himself. Ruth settled in next to Kris. Jack called over his shoulder, "Take the next right and get us out of this mob."

"They don't have the common sense G.o.d promised a gnat," Ruth said. "I know. I love them and I'm proud of the ones that actually do learn. But even the ones that can learn smarts may have no concept of what they should do for personal safety.

"The peace has been wonderful, but I can't help but wonder if it's been too long," Gramma added, putting on her safety belt.

"Now that we're headed away from the campus," Kris asked, "where do we eat?"

"Oh, I know just the place. It's about six blocks down the way, then four to the right." Ruth held up her wrist and squirted something to the driver's computer.

"Got it," she immediately said.

"Do we have reservations?" Jack asked.

"That's what I like about this place. They serve the best Greek food in light-years, and never require a reservation. Oh, and they have separate rooms for those willing to pay extra. You'll like it," she said, giving Jack a wide, knowing grin.

"Kris, I'm starting to think at least some of your relatives can acquire common sense. If they live long enough," Jack said.

"Ah, but remember, I married into this mess. I'm a farmer's daughter," Gramma Ruth said, patting down her gray hairs. "I learned common sense at my mother's knee and my father's worried brow. You spend a few years wondering when it's going to rain and if you'll be able to pay the mortgage on the place, and you'll know what matters and what doesn't."

"You can't have all that much common sense," Kris snorted, not at all liking the way Jack was fawning over this smart old lady. "She's met twice in the last twenty-four hours with a Longknife. Very risky business, I'd say, for an unarmed, unescorted little old lady."

"Who said I'm unarmed," Ruth snapped, and produced a very ladylike, and very dangerous-looking, automatic. It disappeared so fast that Jack didn't have a chance to raise an objection. Or for Kris to see where Gramma had it hiding.

"And didn't you see those two fine, young kids back there, keeping an eye out for me. Fine bodyguards they are."

"Hold it," Jack said, now getting a hand up.

"How'd you get your hands on a gun?" Kris said. "And where did you get a bodyguard?"

"I hired them," Gramma Ruth said very matter-of-factly.

"How?" Kris, Jack, Penny...and Nelly asked at once.

"From the guild hall, of course," Gramma answered.

"What guild hall?" Nelly demanded. "I searched the yellow database for armed escorts, bodyguards, security teams. Every t.i.tle any sensible planet would use. There is no such thing."

"I even asked the amba.s.sador," Kris added.

"You don't know," Gramma Ruth said, eyeing Kris, then Jack.

He shook his head.

She frowned. "When I learned you were coming, I mentioned to several of my friends on campus that I was excited to see you again. Next day, Dean Rosemon, head of graduate studies, an old fart from one of the oldest families on Eden, took me aside. He suggested I might want to see to my security, what with the bad blood between certain families and you Longknifes.

"I, of course, remarked of my surprise, seeing how Eden was so peaceful. Peaceful my eyeteeth. I know this place is seething under the surface. Every time I'm invited back, I'm surprised it's still here. Anyway, despite my most unladylike goading, all Herman Rosemon provided me with was a number for a consulting service."

Gramma Ruth shrugged. "I called the number. A very nice young man came by, looked at my daily schedule and my apartment. Two days later, just before you arrived, these two, hunky young men joined me for my walk to school, and they, or others like them have been with me every day since. I'm told the apartment is covered at night, but I've never met them."

"And your weapon?" Jack asked.

"Comes with the service, or so I'm told."

"Why weren't we told?" Kris demanded. "Better yet, why couldn't we even turn up a hint that this guild hall exists?"

Gramma Ruth chuckled. "Honey, haven't you figured it out? Eden presents one face to the universe, and saves its very ugly back side for locals and visitors who notice."

"So I'm finding out," Kris muttered.

"Any chance you could give us the number of that guild hall?" Jack asked, practical as always.

Ruth looked at the front seat, then glanced over her shoulder at the following rig. "You thinking of trading in your Marines for local hires?"

No way would Kris trust some local to take his pay and take her bullet. She wanted her Marines in reach.

Jack wasn't so sure. "They might have a better sense of this territory. G.o.d only knows we're way too much in the dark."

"But could you trust someone who's only here for the paycheck to not take a bigger paycheck to look the other way?" Kris said. Abby was one question mark. How many question marks could she afford to have around her.

"Hey, Marine, up there," Gramma Ruth called. "What's your price to sell out this barbarian princess from the Rim?"

"This fu-ah, planet," the sergeant said, struggling to clean up his language out of respect for the gray hairs in the backseat, "don't have enough money to buy a Marine, ma'am."

Gramma's answer was obscene and pure Corps. "How well I know that Marines don't sell out. I fought pirates and Iteeche with you hardcases, and never found one I wouldn't share a beer or a fighting hole with."

"Ruth?" the sergeant said. "Gramma Ruth? You aren't that Ruth, are you?"

"The Ruth that married General Trouble. Only then he was just a lieutenant. Though I can't say he was that much less trouble. Yes, Marine, I am that selfsame fool. Glad to make your acquaintance."

"Honored to make yours, ma'am." If possible, the Marines in front suddenly were sitting at an even stiffer attention.

"We got General Trouble's wife on board, here," the driver whispered into her mike. "Look sharp."

Kris laughed. "I'm just a princess. You, Gramma, are a legend."

"Not a legend, Kris, just a survivor. And a carca.s.s no Marine wants to have to explain letting get suddenly dead to my esteemed and utterly worthless husband. Am I right, Sergeant?"

"I'd have to express some reservations about that worthless part, ma'am."

"Don't you line beasts still consider anyone above field grade as useless as t.i.ts on a boar hog?"

"Not in the presence of his wife, ma'am." But he was grinning. A stiff thing, he was still very much at attention.

"If I may interrupt," Jack said. "Do you think we might hire from the guild hall to give our weapons some veneer of legality? We could at least listen to them before we ignore their advice."

"I'm not sure I want some stranger fully briefed on my scheduled whereabouts," Kris said. "Gramma, did your escort hear you make your lunch appointment."

"Both times," she said, a growing smile on her face.

"And you didn't keep either," Kris said.

Gramma Ruth turned her smile loose on Jack. "You can say a lot about my bloodline, but you got to agree, boy, they do learn fast."

"Never expressed any doubt about that, ma'am. Only reason she's still alive."

"So, I'm guessing that Gramma Ruth would be happy if a Marine or two joined her bodyguard," Kris said.

"No, no, gal. I'm not a target. You are. Not me."

"We'll take that under consideration," Jack said.

From the way the sergeant in the front seat was smiling, Kris suspected the decision had already been referred to Captain DeVar and Gramma Ruth's opinion was no longer relevant.

And if her hired security had any thoughts of selling out, the sudden discovery that they now had Marine shadows could not help but encourage them to think again.

They arrived at the Acropolis; Gramma Ruth went in with three Marines to arrange lunch. Jack and the sergeant set up a perimeter for the three rigs to keep them unb.o.o.by-trapped, and set a rotation so everyone got a chance to eat and the rigs were never alone. They finished about the time Gramma Ruth returned.

"We've got their largest room. Jack, you want to see to its debugging? Kris, you're going to love this place."

It turned out one of the Marines on Ruth's initial escort was a defensive tech specialist and had already gotten the room cleared by the time they got there. The walk through the great room was...an experience.

The usual clientele totally ignored, or at least did a very good imitation of ignoring, the parade of uniformed marines. Even the snipers with long guns slung down the front of their full-battle rattle got no second looks.

"Interesting place you have here," Kris said to the owner, as he took them down an aisle lined with artificial grapevines. On the wall of the main room was a view of the rebuilt Acropolis above Athens. It looked hand painted.

"I provide what my clients want," the owner said, smiling jovially, then added with a shrug, "If I don't, there are plenty of places in town who will."

Kris tossed Gramma Ruth a glance. Which Ruth let go right by. Clearly any explanation would save for later.

The room was large. Its walls were painted with window views of old Earth's Greece. The sniper teams took seats at the tables beside the two real windows. The one door was quickly surrounded by Marines at the tables closest to it.

Ruth led the way to the table in the room's center. "This should do us fine."

The owner offered to take their orders. "It's lunch. Most people are rushed."

Ruth glanced at the menu, then ordered something in Greek that made the owner smile. "You have excellent taste, Madame."

Kris ordered the same. As did Jack and Penny. The owner left promising them a magnificent experience. Around Kris, most of the Marines were ordering hamburgers, though a few did go for the lamb version of the familiar lunch.

As the waiters left, Gramma Ruth unfolded her linen napkin, sipped from her water, and asked, "So, why are you here?"

Kris gave the usual explanation.

Gramma Ruth barely managed to swallow her water before she spat a mirthless laugh. "No wonder Trouble was so mad at Ray the last time he messaged me. The love of my life was his usual coy self, refusing to tell me what Ray was up to. Said I'd find out soon enough. I guess I have."

Now Kris demurely unfolded her napkin. "So I take it you don't have sealed orders to hand me. I was so looking forward to Grampa Ray telling me just once what he'd sent me into."

Gramma Ruth snorted several times as Kris finished. "The problem is, Kris, that the old boy has no idea what he's doing. Don't you know that by now?"

"Are we talking about the same Ray Longknife, legend from one end of human s.p.a.ce to the other. King of some sort over a hundred planets?" Kris asked.

Jack and Penny looked a bit uncomfortable at what some might consider treason...if not to the putative royalty, at least to the historical legend. Around the room, Marines got very interested in the wall paintings.

"Kris, girl, haven't you figured out the truth here? Cause if you're still all starry eyed about your lineage, it won't do us any good for me to tell you the answer."

Kris didn't shoot back an immediate response, but chose her words carefully. "Gramma, I knew that what most people take for the Longknife facts are more a product of poor reporting and just plain luck. Unbelievable luck to still be alive, all things considered. We are flesh and blood like everyone else."

"That is nice to hear," Gramma sniffed. "So talk to me about Grampa Ray, named by some king of a hundred planets."

Kris thought for a moment, then, without raising her voice, said. "Marines, I really don't want to read about this in the media tomorrow." A few heads nodded, then she went on, "Grampa Ray comes from a long line of barkers and biters. And if anyone in his lineage ever stopped by a church, it was only to nip and snap at the preacher's heels."

Jack and several other marines looked likely to choke. Penny actually beamed. Probably the first smile Kris had seen on her face since the battle that made her a widow.

Gramma Ruth grinned from gray hair to gray hair. "I don't believe I could have said it better."

"So," Kris immediately went on, "we're agreed Grampa Ray isn't some superman. Doesn't have a crystal ball, and sometimes shoots his way out of the messes he's gotten himself, and half of humanity, into. Stipulating that, why would he send me here?"